Blood of the Vixen

Chapter Two Salesman of Death

She managed to smile at the man behind the desk as she said. “You see, it would be very awkward if it turned out to be someone else. But I believe that I know him. If you would please point him out to me. Mr. Ehrlich. When he comes through the lobby.” She let him see the five imprint on the folded bill she held. She made her smile warmer. “But he must not know, you understand.”

“Perfectly, Miss Walters.” The folded bill was whisked off with a furtive motion. Suddenly the desk clerk lowered his voice. “He’s coming toward the desk now.” There was a glass panel, a mirror, in one of the columns behind the clerk. Latmini glanced into it, saw a man in a neatly cut gray suit, a folded topcoat over his arm. He smiled at the clerk, tossed his key onto the top of the desk and walked toward the lobby door.

“Is he the one you know?” the clerk asked eagerly.

Latmini frowned. “I do not know. It has been so many years. Thank you.” She turned away. Karl Ehrlich was bigger than she had guessed. A full six foot two or three and very broad across the shoulders. He moved with a quick light step — the step of a trained athlete, in spite of the fact that he was close to forty.

Ehrlich stood just inside the lobby door, working his arms into his topcoat, staring out at the crowds on the sidewalk. She wondered how it could best be done. Of course, she could always walk up and say, “I wish to talk to you, Herr Ehrlich.”

But then there was the danger that he would be alarmed by the blunt approach, feel her so lacking in discretion that he would be afraid to make any sort of deal with her.

With sudden decision, she walked by him, pulled open the heavy door and stepped out. She stopped too close to the door and, as she saw it closing, she moved just enough to catch the edge of her coat in the door. She turned, pretending awkwardness, saw him loom up through the glass, pull the door back. “Allow me, please,” he said in a gentle voice, a curiously soft voice for so large a man.

He looked at the edge of her coat, bent and touched the soiled spot with a manicured finger. “I do not believe it is torn at all. You are lucky.”

“Thank you. If you had not come along, I probably would have tom it trying to pull away.”

She smiled up into his face, saw the sudden quickening of interest. “Excuse my boldness,” he said. “You are not American, no?”

“Ceylonese. Would you have guessed?”

“No, I would have said Egyptian, possibly Turkish.”

She made a face and they both laughed. She said, “You are not an American either. I would say German. Possibly Austrian.”

“You are very clever,” he said. “Ah, there is a taxi. What way are you going, Miss—”

“Walters. Janice Walters. That is an Anglicised version of my name. I was going to waste an hour looking in shop windows and then I was going to find a place to have lunch. Perhaps you can tell me where I can best waste my hour?”

He bowed and said, “I am delighted to know you, Miss Walters. My name is Ehrlich. Karl Ehrlich.” He glanced at his watch. “It is now eleven. If you will permit me, I will be happy to take you to a very pleasant place for lunch. We can go there now, if you wish, and talk about this fabulous city we are visiting over sherry or cocktails.”

She peered at him with a burlesque of suspicion. “You are reputable, Herr Ehrlich?”

He solemnly raised his right hand. “I am a pillar of any community I happen to be in, Miss Walters.”

He assisted her into the taxi and directed the driver to take them to a small French restaurant on East Sixty-fourth. There was an awkward silence for a few moments after the cab started up and then he began to talk very charmingly about his first visit to New York City back in 1927 when he knew no English. He soon had her laughing. He used his powerful well-kept hands along with his conversation, using deft gestures to illustrate the little stories he told.

Fifteen minutes after they had entered the restaurant and sat down at a discreet little table in a comer of the lounge, they were evident friends. She noticed that there was no one close enough to them to overhear. He had stopped talking for a moment and was looking at her with obvious approval, his eyes glowing.

She looked into his eyes and said, “Herr Ehrlich, I have come many thousand miles to see you. It is understood that you have certain merchandise for sale.”

The glow went out of his eyes, but his lips kept the same easy smile. The brown eyes became as dull and expressionless as stones. He said slowly, “I must be growing fat and unwary. You have been clever.”

“I understand that your syndicate will not deal with those who are not clever.”

“That is quite right. Did you lie to me about your being Ceylonese?”

“No.”

“What is your right name?”

“Must you know that?”

“Do not lie this time. I must know it and it will be necessary for me to cheek back and see that you are what you claim to be.”

“My name is Latmini Perez.” She smiled, thinking to make him less cautious. “My friends call me Sitara at times. It means ‘star’ in Hindustani.”

For a moment the glow came back into his eyes. “Star? That is nice. The name ‘Stella’ means star. May I call you that?”

“I’ll have a hard time keeping track of my names. Latmini, Sitara, Stella, Janice.”

He became suddenly cautious. “You have not handled this type of mission before?”

“Never.”

“Why do you do it at this time?”

“I could lie to you, Karl Ehrlich, and tell you of some inner yen for adventure. I will not lie. I am doing this because harm will come to ones I love if I do not do it.”

“In the end, my dear, that is the best way. It was proven during the days of the Third Reich. The most loyal servants are those who have everything to lose, including their lives.”

“You do not have to check back to Ceylon. A man in New York can vouch for me, I am sure.”

“Who is he?”

“I must trust you, Herr Ehrlich. But there is something I must check. Suppose I merely tell you that the initials of this man are R. D. and that he has a red face.” “Roger Darron is a fool, Stella. I have refused to deal with him further. I have told myself that I will deal with no one again where he is concerned.”

She felt a quick rush of alarm. Her voice hoarsened as she said, “But you will not apply that rule to me?”

He looked at her for long moments, licked his heavy lips and said, “You will be the last one.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

He danced around, lowered his tone and said, “I will make another exception. I will be careless and foolish. In return for this concession I make you, I will expect that you will make similar con-sessions when the opportunity presents itself.”

She smiled. “We are without witnesses, of course. And you will probably say nothing specific. So the concessions are something I will have to think about.”

He laughed, almost silently. “Stella, my dear, you have wasted years in not taking up this sort of thing earlier. After this is over, maybe there will be a place in our organization where—”

“After this is over,” she said firmly.

“Of course. One thing at a time. You must understand that at the present time the demands on our syndicate are rather heavy. Our shipments have gone out regularly to Palestine, India, China, Burma, the Dutch possessions. But our stocks are now slim. Tell me, will the merchandise we supply be used by trained people?”

“No. It will be used by people who have not been permitted to handle such things for generations.”

“Open or guerilla warfare?”

“First guerilla warfare. Sabotage.”

“How many men do you hope to have engaged in this enterprize?”

“It is said that there should be about five thousand — to begin with. They will capture other merchandise as the fighting goes on.”

“When should shipment be made?”

“As soon as possible. The merchandise is to be crated as truck parts and consigned to a name in Colombo. I will give you his name after arrangements are made.”

“Deals of this sort are cash in advance.”

“We cannot give you cash.”

“Then there will be no deal.”

“Wait! We can give you something that is as good as cash. Possibly better. We can deliver it to any spot you designate.”

Ehrlich shrugged. “We will need more data than what you have given me. Can you set a value on this something you talk about?”

“Half a million dollars. Minimum valuation.”

He smiled. “Do not say that figure with such awe, Stella. We deal in many millions. Once shipment costs are taken out, you leave us ninety dollars with which to equip each of the five thousand you speak of. That is very little. For what you say, we can equip three thousand with our merchandise. And, of course, give you a supply of materials for the sabotage phase. Three thousand rifles of an obsolete type. Forty sub-machine guns. Thirty rounds for each rifle. One thousand rounds for each automatic weapon. Five hundred pounds of plastic explosive with caps and fuses. Three hundred grenades. Nothing more.”

“They were very anxious for pistols.”

“They are in demand. They cost more than the riffles. Rifles would be as good for your purposes, particularly if your people aren’t trained. This is not an offer, however. This is what you might get, provided you could pay cash in advance.”

“My instructions are to ask you this: Will you transmit the order to your people and have the items crated, but not stenciled? Then I will take, to any place you say, this item I speak of and you can see its value.”

Karl Ehrlich was silent for long seconds. He rubbed his massive chin and said, “I like you, Stella. I will agree to that — even though the others will be cross with me.”

“What guarantee of performance can I get from you, Mr. Ehrlich?”

“Call me Karl. You can get no guarantee. I can only tell you this. Any failure on our part to fulfill on a promise makes it more difficult in the future to get the prices we ask.”

“That is a very small crumb of comfort,” she said. “I told you that persons I care for will be hurt, if anything goes wrong, Karl.”

He touched her hand with surprising gentleness. “Nothing will go wrong, Stella. Nothing at all.”

“Where must I make delivery of this item I have spoken of?” Latmini asked him.

“I will tell you that after I find out more about you.”

“Have your people contact Sakna Kahn.”

“We know who he is. That will be done.”

She wanted to pull her hand away from his, but she knew that it was not time to reveal her feeling. She smiled at him. She remembered the girl who had come to her room. Possibly Karl Ehrlich would find some way of preventing trouble from that direction. It was so obviously not his style to kill, but rather to persuade, that she considered it quite safe to say:

“You called Roger Darron a fool. He is more than that. A girl came to me last night and told me that she had gathered enough information from Roger so as to make a great deal of trouble for all of us if Roger once again walks out on her. She was afraid that Roger was too interested in me. She mentioned your name, said that she knew which U. N. delegates you were contacting.”

Karl Ehrlich took his hand away slowly, looked down at the clean nails. His lips barely moved as he said, “Indeed? That is very interesting.”

“You know how much all this means to me in a personal way, Karl. It would be a shame if you and I were to get along beautifully, and yet have the entire thing spoiled by this troublesome woman’s jealousy.”

“She is a Pole, I believe.”

“I don’t know. Her name is Wanda Dziemansek. I have the telephone number of the apartment where she is staying at present.”

“I know where it is. You realize, of course, that there would have been no need for you to leave Ceylon if Darron were trustworthy?”

“I had imagined that that could be the case.”

He glanced at his watch. “We must hurry. I have an appointment.” He snapped his fingers loudly and the waiter came hurrying over.

He stepped out of the taxi at the entrance to the hotel. With the taxi door still open, he stood and looked down at her, the afternoon sun bright on his face. “I will see you tonight,” he said. It was not a question.

Latmini looked at him steadily.

“If you wish.”

“At seven thirty. I will telephone you in your room. Until then, Stella. Do not worry.”

She looked up into his face, thinking of how each individual feature was blameless in itself, and yet the effect of the whole was one of brutality and ruthlessness. Karl Ehrlich, salesman of death. There was an air of inevitability about him, a courteous and smiling doom.

She shuddered as the taxi drove away, turned quickly and went through the lobby to the elevators.

At seven she stepped out of her bath.

She hurriedly slipped on the dark green dress she had bought in Los Angeles.

It was a lightweight wool, and it pleasantly exaggerated the slimness of her waist, the long clean lines of her throat. She lit a cigarette and stood at the window. The cars had turned on their lights and the people on the sidewalks walked leisurely.

The knock on the door came at seven twenty-five. Having expected the loud ring of the phone, she was momentarily startled, and then realized that Karl Ehrlich had decided to come up rather than call.

Affixing a smile on unwilling lips, she unfastened the chain and swung the door wide. A strange young man walked in, smiling and unflustered. He was tall, almost as tall as Ehrlich, but he had none of Karl’s solidity. This man looked wiry and alert. He had a frank, smiling face, friendly eyes and a scrubbed look.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong room,” she said quickly.

He pushed the door shut. “Not at all, Miss Walters. Not at all.” He didn’t take his hat off, merely shoved it so far back that a lock of red-brown hair fell across his forehead. He had freckles across his nose and a deep scar near the corner of his mouth.

He sat down on the couch, tucked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it. He looked at her calmly and with approval. She saw that his eyes were brown like Karl’s. But not as wise as Karl’s. Younger. More naive. She suddenly felt completely capable of handling this friendly young American.

“Sit down, Miss Walters. You look uncomfortable. Pretty dress.”

“You’ll have to tell me what it is that you want,” she said, unsmiling and firm. With a lazy motion he reached into his hip pocket, pulled out a wallet and flapped it open. She saw the silver gleam of the badge, the bright glint of blue enamel.

“Lady, you are entertaining the law. Sit down, honey.”

Abruptly she sat. “On second thought,” he said, “suppose you show me some identification.” His voice was still warm and friendly.

Her mind racing madly, she walked over to her suitcase, unlocked it and took her passport out and carried it over to him.

He glanced at her and at the picture. “Latmini, huh? Is that the way you say it? Latmini Perez. Maybe you don’t write so good. On the register it looks like Janice Walters of Los Angeles.”

She managed a smile. “There is a man here who would pester me, Mr.—”

“Mr. Joe Harrigan. Now tell me about this man and how he’d bother you.”

“Well, he’s just a man. What difference does it make, Mr. Harrigan?”

He stood up so suddenly that it startled her. He walked over to the bureau, yanked open the drawers and fumbled through them. Over his shoulder he said, “It’s a hell of a life, having to do this sort of thing. Don’t look so indignant.” He looked in her purse and then looked at the green dress. “Guess you couldn’t hide anything under that, Miss Perez.” She was conscious of the knife she had taped back to her ribs before dressing.

He sat down again. He yawned and said, “Well, it’s like this. About three o’clock today, as near as the guy from the Medical Examiner’s office can make it, somebody did a little work on a couple people named Darron and Dziemansek. I understand you know ’em.”

Her throat felt dry and tight. It would be dangerous to lie and dangerous not to lie. In a subdued tone she said, “I know them.”

“Glad you didn’t lie. You wouldn’t know ’em now.”

Latmini fought for control when the room swam before her eyes. Harrigan’s face seemed to swell to five times life size and then recede so far away that she could barely see it. Out of a mist he said, “Sorry I gave it to you so fast. Want some water?”

She nodded and with surprising speed he appeared with a glass of cold water. She sipped it gratefully.

Harrigan said, “I just spent quite a bit of time proving to myself that you didn’t leave the hotel after you came back at one thirty-five. Near the phone in the apartment where they were killed is a scratch pad. There was nothing written on it, but on the sheet that was gone somebody had written ‘Janice Walters — Amot.’ And here you are. Other people are checking other things. I’m checking you. Okay?” She nodded. “So tell me why your name is on the pad.”

“I didn’t know where to go for a room. Mr. Roger Darron was supposed to have made a reservation for me. I believe a friend wrote him from Ceylon. I called him when I got in town and he sent me here.”

“Also I find out that this Darron, or somebody who looks like he used to look, came to see you.”

“He was being friendly. He wondered if I wanted anything.”

“Then his gal friend comes to see you at three in the morning. Why?”

“She was jealous. She thought he liked me.”

Harrigan grinned at her. She suddenly felt that there was a brain behind those brown eyes, a brain not as naive as his expression. And not as friendly. “I can see how you might make her jealous. She didn’t look so good when I saw her. What are you doing in this country, Miss Perez?”

“Just a visit. Some shopping. I’m a tourist.”

“Who was this friend who steered you to this Darron guy?”

At that moment the phone rang. She hurried to it and pressed the receiver close to her ear so that the sound of Karl’s voice wouldn’t be audible to the listening Harrigan.

“Stella? I’m down in the bar. Shall I come up?”

“I don’t think so. I’d rather not go, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid it would be too crowded there.”

Karl was quick. “I see,” he said softly. “Someone is with you. If you do not need help, say good-by immediately. I will not want to see you tonight, at any rate.”

“Good-by,” she said and hung up, turning calmly to face Harrigan. He sat and watched her with an amused look in his brown eyes.

For a moment she was afraid that he would ask what place it was that would be too crowded for her tastes. Instead he said, “I was asking you who it was that steered you to this Darron.”

“Oh, that was an old friend of my family’s. A man named Sakna Kahn. He owns several businesses in Ceylon. He travels quite a bit.”

“I see. What about this Wanda Dziemansek? What information can you give us about her?”

“I never saw her or heard of her until she came to my room early this morning. She threatened me if I — became friendly with Mr. Darron. She happened to say that Mr. Darron took her out of a D. P. camp near Munich.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in this country illegally. You know, this guy Darron lived pretty well without a job and without much dough. We can’t find a sign of a bankbook or a job.”

She shrugged as if it was of no interest to her.

But the strain of being calm was beginning to tell. She could feel a small muscle in her upper lip begin to twitch. To her great relief, Harrigan stood up and settled his hat firmly on his head.

He walked leisurely to the door. “Well, we’ll keep checking back, Miss Perez. We’ll be around when we turn up something.”